


Ungentlemanly Behavior

by MissELY, morticiahavisham



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26034919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissELY/pseuds/MissELY, https://archiveofourown.org/users/morticiahavisham/pseuds/morticiahavisham
Summary: After a tipsy hook up, Draco Malfoy has an apology to make.Hermione Granger would prefer not to hear it.But when they're forced to work together on a tricky translation, she's finds she can't avoid it.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 36
Kudos: 561
Collections: July - September Mad Frankenstein Fest 2020





	Ungentlemanly Behavior

**Author's Note:**

> Original Art by [morticiahavisham](https://linktr.ee/morticiahavisham), Words by [MissELY](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissELY)
> 
> Part of the 2020 MadFrankenstein Fest
> 
> The theme for the fest was co-workers and the prompt was "translators"

The office was cramped and hot.

Objectively, Hermione knew that the climate spells were functioning perfectly, and that the walls hadn’t pressed in closer; but there was sweat beading on the back of her neck under the weight of her hair, and she couldn’t manage a full breath.

To be honest, she blamed Draco Malfoy. 

Something about the breadth of his shoulders and the cocky smirk that seemed to constantly play at the corners of his mouth. She wasn’t sure what spell he’d cast to make her normally decent-sized office so small, but she was sure it was his fault.

“Granger, what do you think of this?” He shoved a parchment towards her, some runes underlined and annotated. Her eyes caught on his hands, pale, long fingers but a sturdy, wide palm.  _ Piano player's hands _ was what her mother would call them.

Oh right. Work. 

He was here, in her office—invading her space, with his pretty hands, his sharp features, and his infuriatingly long legs mere centimeters away from hers—because they were supposed to be working. Specifically they were supposed to be translating a scroll that had been found in the depths of Hogwarts during the most recent round of repairs. 

The war had been almost 5 years ago, but the castle was still damaged and repairs were ongoing. Hermione had gone into translation both in an effort to help decipher the ancient texts that the founders had left behind, but also to avoid becoming an Auror. Though Ron and Harry were keen on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione had gotten her fill of Dark witches and wizards.

What she hadn’t counted on was that Draco Malfoy would make the same decision.

They had been partnered up almost immediately. Her diligence and exacting nature matching well with the leaps in logic he was able to make intuitively. She saw translation as a science, while he saw it as an art.

It had been fine. Well, it had been mostly fine. There had been moments of tension and disagreements, and one notable time where she came as close to decking him again as she ever had.

Draco shifted in his seat, his knee bumped hers. She drew away quickly like she had been burned. She knee hit the underside of the desk with a thump. Wincing at the impact, her hand went under the table to rub over her kneecap.

This would be decidedly less awkward if she hadn’t fucked him a week ago.

Alcohol was to blame. 

Well, maybe not alcohol, but certainly a confluence of events outside of her control.

Well, maybe it was just her.

“So what do you think, Granger?” Malfoy prompted, smoothing a hand over his white blond hair, though not a lock was out of place. He no longer wore it slicked back like he had in Hogwarts and it looked soft and touchable.

Hermione hummed noncommittally, and blinked hard, trying to process the translation he had completed.

“Uh, yes, I mean, I think so. But I have questions about the use of this character here in this context,” she said, tapping her finger on the offending mark.

Malfoy leaned back in his seat, rolling his eyes. He huffed out a sigh of annoyance, twirling a quill in his long fingers. 

“Granger, we’ve been over this, this context is the same as the examples I’ve shown you. The translation is right.” The faux patience that colored his tone made Hermione’s hackles go up.

She shook her head with a sharp jerk. “No, Malfoy, we’ve been over  _ this _ . This context is fundamentally different, you need to take cultural changes over time into account.”

“No, you’re wrong, the context in this case is the exact same, the magical ritual mentioned is performed the exact same way, you forget that the pureblood families still cling to the old ways. I promise you, this is right.”

“So you’re telling me that there is some secret pureblood reason that you’re right, and I’m wrong.” She did her best to keep her voice emotionless.

“Merlin, Granger, I just—” he pulled the sheet with the translation closer to him again, his hand fisting in his hair, making it look less than perfect. “—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Hermione let her shoulders sag. “No, Malfoy. Your context is helpful. I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry too.”

Silence knotted with tension settled between the two of them, and Hermione resisted the urge to break it, an itch at the base of her throat urging her to say something, anything.

Instead she bent over the book she was examining, and tried to ignore the impulse.

Malfoy was the first to cave.

“So are we just not going to talk about it?” He wasn’t looking at her, his face schooled into a painfully blank expression, the cocky tilt to his lips long gone.

She glanced up at him and then back down to her book. “Talk about what?”

“About what happened at the Ministry Happy Hour.”

The monthly get together had been arranged by Ron and Dean Thomas to improve morale. It was an informal thing, and Hermione was relatively sure that the only reason it existed was to get the Ministry to pay for the booze. 

All Ministry employees had been invited, and Harry had insisted she attend. 

Draco had also attended.

Hermione felt the heat from her full body blush. She felt it on her cheeks, across her chest, even down her thighs.

“I don’t know what there is to say.” Her voice was high and tight. She cleared her throat and tried for a more relaxed tone. “Unless you have something to say?”

She glanced up at him from under her lashes. She was relieved to see flags of red flying on his sharp cheekbones. 

“Well,” his hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it, not looking at her. “I was rather—it was quite, well, impolite of me to…”

Hermione’s hand clenched and unclenched around the fabric of her skirt. If he was about to apologize for the fantastic fuck, she might just lose it.

He trailed off and something in her chest clenched tight. It was impolite of him to fuck her like she’d never been fucked before? It was impolite to make her come so hard she practically saw stars? It was impolite of him to have sex with her because she was just a mudblood and he should save his precious seed for some pureblood princess?

“Don’t apologize,” she said, her voice brittle. She determinedly looked at the grain of the wood on the table, her face hot.

“I feel like I have to,” this was the most chagrined she had ever heard Malfoy. 

How galling that he regretted their tryst so much, especially when she had experienced heights of pleasure she hadn’t gotten to with another person before. With a pang, she realized that from then on she’d be comparing all her future sexual partners to Malfoy. And he was apologizing about the sex. 

The humiliation of it all made it feel like the walls were caving in on her even more.

The thing in her chest was still a tight ball, but it was writhing around now, making her want to run out of the room so that she didn’t have to hear whatever this was about to be.

“It was ungentlemanly of me...” Malfoy again rubbed the back of his neck, drawing her eyes to his hand. His hands which, less than 7 days before, had pinched her nipples with the exact amount of bite, making her arch off of his too-expensive sheets. Those fingers, which had ghosted across her abdomen, leaving trails of electricity on her skin. Those fingers, which had brought her to climax, rubbing at her clit in the perfect circles that she had tried in vain to get her previous partners to learn, but that Malfoy picked up on intuitively.

“What was ungentlemanly of you?” She asked through gritted teeth. If he was going to humiliate her like this, she was going to make it as uncomfortable for him as possible.

His eyes went to her face and then slid away. “I didn’t mean to finish, well, I didn’t mean to finish inside of you.”

Hermione blinked once, and then again. The thing writhing inside of her and urging her to flee stilled. What?

“Are you apologizing for coming inside of me?” The puzzlement in her voice was genuine.

The color on Malfoy’s cheeks deepened and spread down his neck.

“I was trying to say it in a less crass way, but yes. I should’ve asked, ahead of time.” He still wasn’t looking at her.

The hard knot in her chest eased some, tension bleeding from her body, just a little.

“You’re not apologizing for the sex we had though, right? You’re not saying you regretted it?” She was ashamed at how tentative her voice sounded. 

“No,” his immediate response was vehement, and the sincerity in his tone warmed her heart. “No, absolutely not. I’m—” he broke off, his blush had now captured his entire face, neck, and even the sliver of chest she saw through his partially unbuttoned shirt.

But he was looking at her now. His grey eyes intent on her face, holding her gaze with an intensity she had only seen when she was writhing beneath him.

“No, I’m not apologizing for our… tryst. I enjoyed that experience and would like to repeat it.”

“You want to repeat—” Hermione’s mouth went dry. “You enjoyed it?”

Draco’s pink tongue smoothed over his lower lip, and her eyes followed its path. “It was most satisfactory.”

“ _ Most satisfactory _ ?” she echoed, her eyebrows raised at his choice of words. How he managed to sound like a 18th century dandy while talking about the hot sex they’d had was astonishing.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Okay, it was fucking amazing.”

Hermione couldn’t suppress the grin that stole across her face, but then again, she didn’t really try to. He looked at her and grinned in return, though his cheeks were still red.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Her voice was steady, but she felt rather lightheaded and giddy, and she just couldn’t stop smiling.

“Yeah, it was.”

Hermione hesitated, a smile still playing at the corners of her mouth, her fingers going to the table to trace the pattern of the grain of wood. “And you’d like to... again?”

“Yeah, yeah, very much so.” Draco’s voice was flatteringly breathless.

Her eyes were still on the table top in front of her. “I want you to know, I normally don’t do that, with someone I’m not in a relationship with.”

Hermione didn’t look up and she heard the rustling of his clothes as he shifted in his seat. 

“Granger, why are you all of a sudden afraid to say  _ sex _ ?” Amusement laced through his tone.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and there was a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

She frowned at him, pursing her lips together. “I’m not afraid, I just didn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities.”

“I don’t know why you think I have  _ delicate sensibilities _ .”

“Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you’re apologizing to me for coming inside of me. I’m a modern witch Malfoy, I know how to brew my own contraceptive potions.”

“Of course. But it was still impolite. And I wanted to apologize, because I definitely want a repeat performance.”

Hermione leaned slightly forward in her chair, rubbing her thighs together. The heat in the room was nearly overwhelming now, and she forced herself to look away from Malfoy’s intense gaze. It was only making her hotter.

“And for the record, no one could ever accuse you of being easy. Seducing you took a lot of extended effort on my part.”

“You seduced me?” She was unable to keep the shock out of her voice.

“Of course. I’ve been trying to seduce you for months now.” He said it flatly, like it should have been obvious.

“How?  _ What _ ?” She couldn’t help but splutter.

“Well, I’ve been helping to ensure that you got all the interesting projects.”

“You’ve been foisting the harder work onto me!”

“You’d be bored if you kept getting assigned the Mermish translations that have been piling up. So I’ve been taking those and letting you have the more challenging translations.”

Hermione paused. Draco wasn’t looking at her, but was determinedly examining the document in front of him avoiding her gaze. He was right. If she had been forced to do all of the Mermish translations she knew had been coming into the office, she would have torn her hair out.

“So your attempt at seduction has been solely based on making sure I stayed challenged at work?” Her eyebrows were raised in surprise and there was an incredulous note to her voice.

“Well,” Draco shuffled some of the papers in front of him, his cheeks red again, “that wasn’t the whole plan.”

“Oh? What else was there?” Her eyes were riveted on his movements, trying to catalogue and identify the emotions on his face.

“I stopped being unnecessarily mean to Weasley.”

Her lips quirked in amusement. “You called him a thoughtless slob yesterday.” 

Draco looked up, a single eyebrow raised. “I said unnecessarily mean. That was necessary, he was about to drip mustard all over the documents on your desk. Hell, I’ve even stopped calling him Weasel—”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “You also called him that yesterday!”

“—that much.” Draco finished, pressing his lips together.

“So,” Hermione said, “being marginally nicer to my friends and taking on the boring assignments.”

“I also replaced your chair.”

She paused, turning her body to face him full on. “That was you?”

“Did you really think that the Ministry would have sprung for real leather?”

Hermione stroked a thoughtful hand over the arm of her chair. It had appeared in her office about a month ago, giving Hermione’s back welcome support. She had complained about her chair to Draco just the day before she had gotten the new one.

“Oh.” She found herself unable to take her eyes off of him.

“Yeah.” He was looking at her too. There was a tension building in the air, something electric.

“So when we  _ fucked _ after the happy hour,” she said, emphasizing the crass term, trying to make Draco’s blush deepen again, but his face remained passive, “it wasn’t just because you were tipsy and horny.”

“No.” His answer was immediate and sure. Draco leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I mean, it wasn’t for me.” The accusation was clear in his voice.

“Well, it wasn’t for me either!”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Were you also embarking on a plan of seduction as well?”

“No, I can’t say I was.” She picked up a quill for something to do with her hands. “My plans of seduction tend to be more ‘grab the bloke and shag them’ than favors so subtle the other person doesn’t notice them.’”

“You grabbed me and shagged me at the happy hour.” The teasing note was clear in his voice.

“That was a mutual grabbing and shagging.” She corrected, smoothing her sweaty palms over her skirt.

“So you weren’t seducing me then?”

“Uh—no. But...” She looked away, suddenly very interested in the clock that was hanging on the wall just behind him.

Like a shark scenting blood in the water, Draco latched on, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward. “But what?”

“But I may have fancied you.” The words came out quickly, one tumbling out after the other.

There was a beat of silence.

“Since when?” He enunciated each word slowly, a direct contrast to her rushed confession.

Hermione still wasn’t looking at him. “Since you volunteered to help run the Translators program for the Under Elevens.” The heat in the room was really unbearable, and that electric tension only made the air thicker.

“That was five months ago.” His surprise was obvious.

She shrugged, her fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on the table. “What can I say, I have a weakness for men who are good with children.”

“Teddy was in that program, I wouldn’t want my cousin being taught by an idiot. Of course I had to volunteer. The alternative would have been McMillain, and he’s useless.”

They sat quietly for a minute, just looking at each other.

“So,” Hermione drew the word out, “just to establish, we both have had romantic interest in each other for several months, we both enjoyed our...rendez-vous at the event, and we would both like a repeat performance?”

“Yes, you swot, that summary is accurate.” His teasing smile shifted to something darker, hungrier.

The tension prickled across Hermione’s skin. Goosebumps ran up and down her arms. Draco’s gaze racked over her, a physical weight on her.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Yes, me too.”

“So.”

Later, Draco would say that she lept at him, clear across the table like a wild animal, but Hermione maintained that she had stood and decisively walked over to him. 

She did stand rather abruptly, the tension finally too much. Gathering her courage about her like a cloak, she took the quick two steps to Draco’s side of the desk. Leaning down, she planted her mouth on his in a kiss.

It was awkward, the angle was strange, and Draco obviously had been unprepared because he was frozen in place like a statute. Maybe she had misjudged, maybe this was a mistake, maybe—

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in, closer and closer until she was forced to sit in his lap to avoid toppling over.

Draco made a satisfied grunt and leaned in to their kiss.

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Yes, this is what she remembered. It felt like fireworks were going off under her skin as his tongue stroked her full bottom lip, requesting entrance. She granted it and his fingers tightened around her hips, digging into the skin there. They found a rhythm, slow and easy, but somehow delicious and decadent. 

Hermione strained to spread her legs more, to settle further onto his lap, but her pencil skirt restricted her movement. She gave a frustrated huff, and felt Draco smile against her mouth. She wiggled, trying to get enough room to yank up her skirt some. It made her brush up against his cock with the back of her hand. Draco groaned slightly, but Hermione was able to maneuver her legs further apart, allowing her core closer to his lap, where she rocked into him.

He drew back with a curse, and she felt his cock twitch against her. He brought his mouth to her neck, nipping at her pulse point, and pressing kisses against the hollow of her throat.

Tilting her head to allow him better access, she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers toying with the short hair at the base of his skull.

His fingers reached between them and went to the buttons of her blouse, popping them open one after the other, taking his time to brush his knuckles over every new inch of copper skin revealed. It made goosebumps race over her skin.

“I want you to bend me over this desk,” Hermione’s voice came out breathy and her hips ground down into his for emphasis.

Draco moaned against the skin of her neck, hot breath against her already overheated skin.

The grin that stole across Hermione’s face was predatory, and she deliberately rocked again against Draco. “You’ve been driving me insane. All I can think of is how good you felt inside me, how much I wanted you to stretch me and fill me all over again.”

“Fuck, Hermione,” he sounded hoarse and palmed one of her breasts through the silk of her bra. Merlin, she was glad she’d worn a matching set today.

“I spent the past hour we were working together thinking about how your fingers felt tangled in my hair, pulling it just the right amount as I bobbed up and down on your thick, hard cock.”

Her arms unwound from his neck and she began opening the buttons of his Oxford with much less care and grace than he had opened her shirt with. She wanted to run her hand over the skin of his abdomen, she wanted to press her breasts up against his chest and be skin to skin.

“Will you do that for me now? Take me here in my office? Make me want to touch myself whenever I’m here working late, thinking of you fucking me at this desk, right here?”

Draco bit out a curse, and in a feat of strength that surprised her, he stood, lifting her up with him. She squeaked in surprise as he deposited her on top of her desk, heedless of the papers on it.

He used his hand to ruck up her skirt even further, and she leaned to one side to help him until her professional pencil skirt looked more like a belt around her waist.

Their kisses were heated, like wildfire that coursed pleasurably through her veins, burning everything but him out of her.

“Fuck, fuck, Draco,” she got out between kisses. He ran his palm from her knee to the inside of her thigh. He paused at the tops of her stocking, running fingers over the material with reverence. She spread her legs to allow him better access, and he took full advantage, pressing his thumb against the gusset of her knickers in just the perfect place, right above her clit.

Her moan was cut off by a gasp as he rubbed his thumb in a circle that dragged the material over her most sensitive spot. It felt marvelous, and she arched into the touch.

“Just like that, Merlin, you’re good at this,” Hermione leaned forward, breathlessly kissing up his neck.

“I know,” he said, a smug smirk on his face.

“Prat,” Hermione said, smacking a hand on his shoulder. She kept her hand there, her fingers curling into the material of his shirt, drawing him in closer.

The pull of the material over her clit was driving her crazy. She hitched her hips, trying to to get just a little more—

Draco picked up on her impatience and pulled aside the gusset of her knickers. His hand met the wet heated flesh of her core and she moaned in appreciation. His talented fingers worked in a rhythm that made her toes curl and pleasure build low in her abdomen. After what could have been minutes or hours, her hand that was fisted in his shirt tightened and her legs shook as she threw her head back, an orgasm taking over her body.

“Fuck! Draco!” She was panting, and she could feel sweat on the back of her neck trickle down her spine. 

She didn’t know it was possible for a man to look so smug yet so on edge. The grey of his irises were a thin ring around his pupils which were blown wide in lust. He brought his fingers, visibly wet with her slick to his mouth. He shut his eyes with relish as he licked the remnants of her pleasure off of his hand. Hermione shuddered at the image, her core pulsing with pure want.

“What happened to that big talk, Granger?” Draco asked, planting his hands on either side of her legs, leaning in.

“Let a woman catch her breath, Merlin.” She said, an arm going around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. He let her, and their kiss was slow and languid, a direct contrast to their frantic movements just a few moments before.

The tension between them began to build again. Hermione pulled back, placing a flat hand on his chest and pushed back slightly. She took a moment to admire his hard muscles under warm skin before focusing on what she wanted.

She pushed herself off of the desk, forcing Draco to take a step back.

“I think I asked you to take me over this desk, didn’t I?” Her voice came out low and the smile on her face felt sharp and dangerous.

“I believe you did,” Draco was out of breath, and it somehow made his voice sound sexier.

Without another word Hermione shifted so that she was leaning over the desk, skirt still up around her waist. She brushed her hair so that her riotous curls all fell over one shoulder and then put both of her palms flat on the desk and arched her back in what she hoped was an alluring pose.

“Hermione,” it was more breath than words, and she felt the heat of his body as he took a step closer to her. One of his hands ghosted up the side of her hip. He hesitated there, his hand hovering over her skin. “Fuck, how are you real?” The awe in his voice did wonders for her ego.

“Please, Draco,” she said softly. That seemed to break something in him, because the next moment he was pushing her knickers down with one hand and undoing his belt with the other.

He used a foot to push her legs wider, and she let him. She felt bare and exposed, with her knickers trapped around the middle of her thighs, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. 

One of his hands went to hold her hips still, while the other guided himself to her core. She felt the blunt head of his thick cock run the length of her slit and she had to bite back a moan at the sensation. It was only then that he pushed in. 

Her head dropped forward, making her hair fall in her face. She couldn’t help the high, desperate noise that fell from her lips. The stretch was delicious, she felt so full. She rocked her hips into him, wanting more.

Draco let out a low “fuck” as he bottomed out. One of his hands went to the desk to brace himself, the other to her hip.

She rolled her hips against him, urging him wordlessly to move. His hand tightened around her hip, his fingers indenting her skin, but he held still.

“Damn it, Draco, move!” Reaching a hand around, she pulled his hips more firmly against hers.

That finally spurred him to move, and he thrust into her, rough and uneven. His movements were not the same clean practiced sophistication she had gotten used to, working with him day-in and day-out. Instead they were desperate, his breath hot against her neck as he panted.

His trousers were just below his hips, held up by his wide stance. The zipper scratched against her bare thighs as he drove his hips against hers, and the rough fabric of his clothes somehow made her even more crazy.

Waves of pleasure washed over her, hot and delicious. She shut her eyes tightly, that familiar exciting pressure building again. The only sound in the room was the noise of their coupling and the breathy moans that she made every time he thrust into her.

Her shoulder blades were exposed as her blouse slipped down and he leaned in, pressing a kiss onto the newly exposed skin. The gesture was unexpectedly sweet, and it made Hermione’s heart clench in a way that was surprisingly wholesome given the filthy way his hips pounded into her. 

His hand that was on the table moved to her core, going unerringly to her clit. 

It was his perfect touch—fingertips on the most intimate parts of her—that made her break around him; core pulsing around him as she came. Her moan of pleasure was low and raw. Her hand unclenched from his hip, and she brought it back to the desk as she tried to keep her from buckling under the weight of her pleasure.

Draco’s hips stuttered against hers and he cursed, his voice hoarse and desperate. He gave a couple more shallow thrusts before Hermione felt the muscles of his thighs tense as he came inside of her. The feeling made her clench around him, an aftershock of her own orgasm.

His forehead dropped to rest on the bare skin of her upper back. 

Hermione broke the silence.

“So you came inside of me again.”

Draco huffed a breathless laugh against her skin. The feeling made a shiver run down her spine.

“I liked it,” she brought a hand up from the desk to rest on top of his where he still held her hip, “and if you apologize for it again, I’ll be very put out.”

“Well then,” Draco kissed her back again, just under her hairline this time, “I won’t.”

He uncoupled himself from her, leaving her feeling empty. She made an involuntary noise, high in her throat. He kissed the side of her neck, nipping at her pulse point.

“I won’t have any confusion,” he straightened. He kept one hand on her hip, the other running a hand up the inside of her thigh, catching the fluids that had leaked out of her, “I want this to happen again. I want to have a relationship with you. I want you to be mine.” He used his fingers to press his spend back inside of her, making her shudder against his fingers.

He reached over to grab his wand from the desk and did a quick cleaning spell on both of them.

“Yes, yes I want that too.” She turned, letting him see the wide smile on her face. There was a soft look in his eyes that made her stomach flutter. He brought the hand from her hip up to cup her cheek. She turned her head to press a kiss into his palm.

“Good. I’m taking you out to dinner.” He pulled up her knickers and smoothed down her skirt with gentle hands.

Hermione helped him button his shirt, but her fingers hesitated at the top button, a thought suddenly coming to her.

“This doesn’t mean you’ll start making me take the Mermish translations, right?”

Draco rolled his eyes, amusement clear on his face. “No, Granger.”

They left the office hand-in-hand, translation forgotten on her desk.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the author on [tumblr](misselylux.tumblr.com), and the artist on [ twitter and tumblr (links to linktree) ](https://linktr.ee/morticiahavisham)
> 
> For some reason, some browsers seem not to like the embedded artwork, [so here is a link in case it appears broken to you.](https://www.dropbox.com/s/t505d4swzvawb2x/Photo%20Aug%2019%2C%204%2007%2031%20PM.jpg?dl=0)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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